Lilly-Anne's Roses

Chapter 3 - Anger

The sun was setting over the little blue house sat behind the garden when I finally stepped outside. The night air was crisp and cool. I tugged my cardigan around me as the wind played with my hair and closed my eyes for a second, letting myself take a moment to breathe in the fresh air, having stayed inside all day.

Last night was overwhelming to say the least. I spent most of the night awake, replaying the conversation in my head and regretting how it ended. But I couldn't help the anger that was boiling inside of me. The more I spoke to her, the angrier I got that she wasn't there. 

I had stopped talking about mom a couple years ago to people around me because they seemed to have lost their interest. A person can only take so much tragedy in a short amount of time. I was angry with myself; I was angry that I was taking so long to recover when others felt that I should've moved on. 

But why do we need to be forced onto a timeline for every little thing that life deems tragic?

I held a rose petal in between my fingertips and gently rubbed the soft velvet surface as I thought about how I was feeling. My therapist has been telling me that I need to start recognizing my emotions out loud. I am feeling sad. I am feeling angry. I am feeling drained. I am feeling so much that the world seems to be closing in on me, one rose at a time. I am feeling trapped in my own secret garden and yet I cannot seem to keep away for too long. 

I still had seven roses left.

I quickly cut a rose and watched it fall to my feet. Taking in a breath, I collected myself. I knew she was behind me. "Why did you have to die?" I whispered; eyes glued to an ant struggling to bring a crumb back home. 

She sat next to me, facing the opposite direction, but didn't say a word. I folded my knees towards my heart, "why did you have to go?" I gently placed my head on her shoulder, breathing in the aroma of vanilla and roses.

"After your father passed, life for me became irrelevant. You must understand that your father was the man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with. We had plans, we had goals, we had everything anyone could want, including you. When he died, a light inside of me dimmed. I couldn't get out of bed; I barely left the house. You tried so hard, to get me to reconnect with the world. A world you said was waiting right outside my door for me, but I couldn't pass that threshold because your father was my world, and I knew that he was never going to be waiting for me outside the door." She was twirling a blade of grass as she spoke.

"You were a light in my life, but it wasn't enough. I felt like you deserved better than half of me, you deserved all of me, and I was not ready to give that to you. I never was going to be ready."

Confused, I ran my fingers through my hair, "I don't understand what you are trying to tell me". She avoided my eyes, "I was so sad Lily-Anne. I felt so empty. I was no use to anyone alive. I –" I felt my body go rigid, my mind was connecting the dots, "stop talking mom"

But she had said the words I had dreaded hearing for years, "I am sorry for choosing to release myself from my pain over your happiness, but I am not sorry that I did it, because I had stopped living for a long time".

I was hearing bees in my ears.

My face started getting warm, and my wrist was sore from where I had rubbed my fingers, broken skin starting to sting against the dirt. "So... you thought ...that removing yourself permanently from my life would be the best thing for me?" I was standing up now, two fingers still holding onto a petal. "I needed you," the words were barely coming out of my mouth, 

"I needed my mom." 

I sat in front of her, our eyes locking into place for the first time that evening, "How could you be so selfish? How could you do that to your fifteen-year-old daughter who had already experienced the loss of her father?"

"I don't have an answer for you, not the one you want to hear."

I stood up quickly, "that isn't good enough," she made her way towards me, brushing dirt off her legs, "Lily-Anne, please--" but I couldn't hear her anymore.

I was fuelled with such anger; the bees were getting louder.

Suddenly, my mother stopped moving. She gently grazed her hands over her arms and a worried expression revealed itself, "I might be leaving soon, I am feeling less present," my mother tried telling me as she approached where I was stood, "did you hear me my love?" 

How could she speak to me in such a way, when she had just told me that she had chosen to die.

 "Stop talking," I say as I grip the scissors tightly, "you can't leave now, you only just got here, and I need time to think". But she had already started to fade.

Watching her disappear into the night was too much for me. I ran towards the roses and started cutting one off, "you are not leaving me again!" 

One rose fell. 

I did not stop. 

She tried to pull my arm away, but her strength was faltering, "Lily-Anne please stop!" 

A second rose fell. 

She was desperately trying to prevent me from reaching the next flower. 

It wasn't until the third rose fell, and my mother was translucent, that I gave up.

"I wish it worked like that my love, but it doesn't" A single tear streamed down my face.

"Losing you every evening is worse than pretending you are actually here." But by then she was gone, and I was left alone.

Only one thought crossed my mind before I made my way back inside.

What if I disappeared with her? Would it make the bees stop?

**********

I am not going to lie but I am getting emotional re-reading this part each time. 

How does it make you feel?

 Have you ever found yourself in either of their positions before? 

How have you overcome those strong emotions? 

Leave your votes and comments so that we can exchange thoughts xx

Stay tuned for the next chapter: Bargaining

If you haven't guessed by now, we are following Lilly-Anne through the stages of grief. Did you guess this correctly? Leave a sad face if you did!

xx